


Paradise Lost

by ZeldaByrdeBishop



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Character Death, F/F, awban deviant, tw homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop
Summary: The year is 1743. Dorothea and Zelda have lived a long life together, but Zelda gets a cough that just won't shake - It's her time to go.
Relationships: Dorothea Putnam/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 19
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I gave you all fluff???   
> Yeah. That's gone now.   
> This will be a two shot!

Dorothea gently rubbed Zelda’s cold foot as they sat on the bench Jonathan had upholstered for them. The cushions proved much better for their old muscles than the decrepit wood as they would sit here for hours. Zelda often re-reading John Milton’s _ Paradise Lost & Paradise Regained  _ or Horace Walpole’s  _ The Castle of Otranto _ , while she wrote stories to read to Zelda when she grew tired of Milton and gigantic helmets falling from the sky for the day. Dorothea hoped that Hilda would send her sister another gruesome novel from some far away land to gorge soon, as the two novels Dorothea had purchased for her recently were “dismally cheerful” as Zelda had put it. 

Dorothea smirked thinking of it. One could truly take the magic out of a witch, but those pesky grotesque urges remained in the very marrow of her being, keeping the witch turned off to  _ Gulliver’s Travels _ and  _ The Pilgrim’s Progress  _ to her dismay.

“They need to invent something that would help your eyes, dear. You won’t be able to hold that book much closer to your nose,” Dorothea teased. 

Zelda set the book in her lap, rolling her eyes, unwilling to admit to her wife that she already was unable to read a majority of the words and relied on memory and their eldest grand-nephew, Jonathan, to fill in the blanks. “You know even if they did, we wouldn't be able to afford it with how poorly the chickens are producing this year.”

Dorothea gently rubbed Zelda’s leg, “I don’t know why they’ve been so stingy this year….”

“I blame the goats.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes and smirked, “I’m sure.”

“You know Old Ham gets into the coop!”

“I didn’t say he didn’t.”

Zelda lifted her book back to her face with a disgruntled hum, before coughing into her handkerchief.

Dorothea frowned deeply. This cough of Zelda’s had been going on for the better part of the past 5 months and she could see the former witch’s energy levels depleting a little faster with every given week, which was concerning, but could also simply be old age catching up with her. Dorothea had begun to give more and more farm duties to her nephews as well as Jonathan and the other two grand-nephews, Marcus and Daniel. She was grateful they had all decided to move to the states. She wasn’t sure what they would have done without them. Her and Zelda simply couldn’t run the farm the way they used to. She once again silently thanked Jonathan for their upholstered bench. That boy had been kinder to them than they ever deserved. 

Zelda coughed again, the sound coming deep from within her lungs, lasting a good thirty seconds, wearing the witch thin. Dorothea adjusted her hands as the witch slowly eased her body down further to lie down, her head against the pillow that supported her back, shutting her eyes. 

Dorothea frowned, setting her notebook against Zelda’s knees, resting a hand on the witch’s thigh. Her voice was soft, tentative as she once again pried, “...I really think we should let Dr. Williams look at you…”

Zelda didn’t open her eyes as she struggled to breathe, focusing on her lungs as she responded, “So, we can give him more money than he deserves to simply tell me I’m old.”

Dorothea’s jaw set, “Zelda you’ve lost weight.”

“Good,” the witch replied too quickly to hide her breathlessness.

Dorothea frowned deeper and leaned over slightly, resting a hand on Zelda’s rib cage, immediately feeling guilty when the witch batted her hand away, beginning to cough again, quickly losing the strength to hide her wheezing as the coughs subsided. 

The mortal gently rubbed the witch’s hands as they left her face to rest on her stomach, weakly holding the handkerchief. “I’m going to send for him, Zelda. This can’t go on.”

Slowly, the witch nodded, scaring Dorothea more, She carefully got up, putting a blanket over her wife’s feet and legs, before leaning down to kiss her wrinkled forehead.

Leaving the warmth of the cabin, she walked down the porch steps with the aid of her cane and made her way to the chicken coup where small 10 year old Daniel was feeding the chickens. 

“Good morning, Grandma Dora,” He waved with a smile holding out some corn kernels for her to throw. She smiled and took them, sprinkling them for the hens close by.

“Thank you, dear. Daniel, I need you to do me a very important favor as quickly as you can. Will you ride Brownie into town and fetch Dr. Williams? He needs to come look at your Granny Zee, something’s not right with her lungs.”

Daniel frowned deeply, able to see the deep worry in his Grandmother’s face, “Yes, Grandma Dora.”

Normally, Dorothea wouldn’t send such a young boy back into town on his own, but she was afraid to leave Zelda in her current state. She hoped his father, Matthew, would forgive her and uttered a quick silent prayer for the boy’s safety as he rushed off to get their pony tackled. 

She turned back to the house and went back inside, after ensuring the chicken yard was locked and pulled up a chair beside Zelda, running her fingers through the woman’s white hair. Both comforted and concerned that their equally old cat had jumped up onto the bench to curl up on Zelda’s legs. The two were notorious for bickering. It was as if the cat specifically sought out new ways to drive the witch crazy. Their most frequent contention being over the vase Zelda would set on the table. The witch had tried everything to keep that vase on the table; filling it with pebbles, filling the vase with lilies, dumping water on the cat as it got close, and even wrapping barbed wire around the vase, but inevitably the cat would knock it down. It was a wonder the vase was still in one piece. 

“I sent Daniel for Dr. Williams.”

Zelda frowned deeply, but felt too weak to argue that Daniel was too young to be sent out on his own. 

“I know…..” Dorothea apologized as she stroked one of Zelda’s curls with her thumb. 

***

Luckily, Daniel had made the trip safely as Dorothea had prayed he would and Jonathan had arrived with the intention of picking up his brother, but had decided to stay when he saw the state his grandmother was in. Zelda had protested when Jonathan had scooped her up in order to place her on their bed, but her protests rested on stubborn ears as the strong 17 year old lifted her with ease for her own comfort’s sake. 

Dorothea watched with concern, holding Daniel’s hand as she sat at a chair at Zelda’s feet, gently running her thumb over the witch’s tendons, wishing she could warm her forever cold toes. It felt like ages as the Doctor poked and prodded at Zelda to her dismay, but Zelda didn’t complain even once, which only caused more worry in Dorothea. 

Finally, he looked back to her, his expression emotionless, before turning to the boys. “Would you boys be willing to give me a minute to speak with your grandmother privately?”

Jonathan frowned deeply and his jaw began to tremble, before nodding and taking his brother’s hand to lead him outside. They would undoubtedly listen through the door. 

Dorothea’s heart felt weak as she looked back to the doctor when the door shut, her hand tightening around Zelda’s ankle. 

He frowned deeply as he stood, looking between them. “Her lungs are weak. If it progresses any further…...she will be gone within a month, a week if she’s unlucky.”

Dorothea’s heart fell with her stomach. “.....What?”

Dr. Williams took up his case. “The best we can do is put her on bed rest, but don’t allow her to lay flat because she may choke on any blood she coughs up as this death progresses.” 

Dorothea stood, “Is there nothing we can do?”

He shook his head, “.....Pray. Usually death like this comes from sin. It’s a punishment from God.”

Dorothea’s eyes grew angry, “Is there another doctor, who may be able to give a second opinion?”

Dr. Williams shook his head. “Perhaps Dr. August in Riverdale, although he will give you both the same verdict. Our Lord and Savior warns us against these horrors through his text. If one chooses not to adhere to his scriptures…..”

Dorothea’s voice snarled as she hit her cane on the floor in front of her, “Dr. Williams, leave my home this instant.”

He tipped his hat to her, but not to Zelda before walking to the door, pausing to turn to Dorothea, “I’ll send the examination bill in the post.” Then he turned the doorknob and exited the cabin taking the time to pause in front of the two boys, who had tears running down their faces. “Don’t cry, chaps. Take this as a warning. Heed God’s words or he will take you with a vengeance.”

“Get OUT!” Dorothea yelled with a force uncommon to the old woman as she charged the door, hitting her cane against the door-frame, sending the doctor walking down the stairs to his horse. 

Dorothea turned to the boys and motioned them in, tears beginning to fill her own eyes, “Come in, boys.” 

Daniel ran into the cabin and immediately jumped onto the bed, getting under the covers, pulling them over his and his grandmother’s head.   
Dorothea watched shocked as she shut the door, “Daniel! Uncover your grandmother this instant! She needs to be able to breathe!”

Their grand-nephew sniffled loudly as he kept the covers over them, while Zelda weakly grabbed the boy, hugging him close, as he protested, “No! I don’t want God to find her! If he can’t find her he can’t take her.”

Frowning deeply, Dorothea pulled the covers back, wiping away her tears with a handkerchief. “God sees all, Darling…..you can’t hide people from God.”

Jonathan slowly walked over and sat down at the foot of the bed. 

“Put away your tears. All of you,” Zelda scolded, putting on a brave face as she stroked Daniel’s soft brown hair. “Daniel, did you finish feeding the chickens?”

He nodded, sniffling into her red dress’s sleeve.

“Did you feed the goats?”

He shook his head.

Zelda kissed his forehead before gently patting his back. “Go feed the goats and grab a carrot from the counter to give to Brownie. Jonathan, can you help your brother and then come back inside before you go. I’ll need to ask you a favor.   
Jonathan nodded and picked his brother up, setting him down on the floor before kissing his grandmother’s cheek, taking Daniel outside to leave the two women alone. 

Dorothea pulled her chair to sit at Zelda’s head and took the woman’s ringed hand in both of her’s, finally beginning to sniffle as the news began to settle through their fingertips. No. This couldn’t be happening. They should have been given more time. Zelda should live at least another ten - twenty years! Why so soon? 

“Can you write to the Church of Night? To Edward? Hilda? There has to be a spell to reverse this,” Dorothea asked through her tears, gently pressing her lips to Zelda’s hands. 

Zelda shook her head, fighting her own tears, her voice a whisper, “You know the Church won’t come to my aid…”

“I’ll go to Father Xavier tomorrow...maybe there’s been enough time...God may let you enter the church and we can baptize you-”

Zelda removed her hand from Dorothea’s and wiped away the tears she could reach, “He doesn’t want me, Dora…….I tri-.....My name is still in the Book of the Beast.”

Dorothea quickly stood up, “I can retrieve -”

Zelda quickly grabbed her hand as she turned away, “Dora, please. Stop.”

The mortal stopped and squeezed Zelda’s hand, her shoulders sinking as she stood there. 

“Please, just sit with me,” the witch asked softly, fear slowly starting to edge into her voice despite her best efforts. 

Dorothea slowly turned and looked down at Zelda, who’s eyes were gleaming with fearful tears. What she would give to reverse the years to bring back her pumpkin curls. She squeezed Zelda’s hand and sat back down, gently wiping away her tears. “Of course...I’m sorry….I’m so so sorry, Zelda.”


	2. The Pilgrim's Progress

Matthew arrived with his wife Sara and their children later that evening, so the younger boys could finish any farm duties that Dorothea hadn’t been able to get to and to attend to the favor Zelda had asked of Jonathan.

Sara pulled Dorothea into a hug as they arrived, holding her Auntie close as Matthew pulled up a chair to sit at Zelda’s feet, while the boys stood behind him. Their youngest child, Lucy, perched on her father’s knees as he sat, only to crawl onto her grandmother’s bed. 

“Where Tail!?” Lucy asked her Granny Zee as she sat in her lap pulling the blankets up to her chin, replacing the attention of her grandmother from her book, to her. 

Zelda smiled and held the little 2 and half year old girl close, “I don’t know, darling. You’ll have to find him.”

This caused the two year olds immediate priority shift as she crawled back out of Zelda’s lap, almost crashing off of the bed if Sara hadn’t scooped her up to set the girl on the floor, so she could search for the cat. 

“How are you both? Do you need anything?” Sara asked worriedly, rubbing Dorothea’s back.

“I could use a cigarette,” Zelda complained snapping at Matthew, who smirked and immediately gave in, lighting the fag for her before handing it over. 

Dorothea scowled, “Zelda.”

Zelda gave her wife a coy look as she sucked in the smoke before coughing it out. 

Dorothea snatched the cigarette as Zelda’s hand slacked and pointed to lit end at Matthew, “Smoke cannot be good for her!”

Their nephew looked from Dorothea to Sara, sheepish, feeling a bit guilty, but couldn’t help but feel the corners of his lips twitching as Zelda looked back at him making a comically oppressed expression, through the dwindling coughs.

Sara took the cigarette and gently put it out on Zelda’s ashtray before taking Dorothea’s hands, “Daniel was saying one of the goats had a baby?”

Dorothea nodded, shooting one last warning look between Zelda and Matthew before allowing herself to be led to the door. “Yes, Lucy or Marcus will have to name him.”

“Come boys, come Lucy! Let’s go see the baby goat! - Jonathan,” Sara warned with her voice as she saw the boy lagging, ushering them all out. 

Zelda waited until the door was shut before grabbing the cigarette out of her ashtray and taking the lighter out of her side table drawer to light it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” her nephew warned as she scooted his chair closer to her.

She smirked and blew a cloud of smoke into his face. “That is not for me to worry myself over, darling,” she replied pinching his cheek. 

He smiled, but it was stilted as he remembered why he came, “Jonathan said that Soot laid an egg? I know that’s code Auntie, but I’m afraid I don’t know what for.”

She pursed her lips over the cigarette and pointed to the bookshelf. “I wrote up Dorothea and I’s wills before my eyesight went and I hid them in my Latin Satanic Bible. Could you?”

He nodded and walked over to the bookshelf, looking at all of the titles before picking out the one he felt looked like a Bible out of her Latin texts, “This one?”

She nodded and held out her hand for it.

He obediently handed the book back to her and sat in his chair, watching as she lifted the back cover’s binding to reveal the papers. 

“Does Auntie Dee know you have these written?”

Zelda shook her head as she unfolded the papers, handing them to him. “No. I wrote them up when my eyesight started to go. I do all of our books, which I’ve taught to Jonathan, so Dorothea shouldn’t have to worry herself with noting the farm’s finances and inventory once I’m gone. I’ve also left a handsome sum of money under the floorboards by the bookshelf as my will details which was sent from my brother shortly after my excommunication. She shouldn’t have to worry about the farm producing after I’m gone if she doesn’t want to, nor should she have to worry herself over paying Dr. William’s inhumane examination fee for myself, and any medical bills she should acquire that pertain to her.”

Matthew’s eyes grew soft, able to recall many times that Dorothea had confessed that she knew Zelda had wanted to go on a trip, or purchase some meaningless fine item, whether she said so or not, wishing she’d had the finances to do such a thing for her wife. Little had she known that Zelda had had the means to do all of those things and probably more, but had saved the money she’d been given for this moment, for Dorothea, for the time she knew she would be gone. He hoped he would have the dignity and grace to do the same and put Sara first as they continued their lives together. 

He returned to looking at the two wills over, but her wording in Dorothea’s will versus her own will caught his attention. He frowned deeply as he read that her will detailed that her few belongings were to be left mostly to Dorothea, while Dorothea’s will didn’t mention her once, “You knew you were going to go first?”

Zelda blew more smoke into the air, her voice going quieter, keeping it between them despite their isolation, “.....my body never truly recovered from my excommunication. She is not to know, under any circumstance.”

He nodded a bit and frowned deeper as he finished his cross examination of the documents, “It was smart for you to sign almost everything in her name.”

Zelda nodded, “The only large purchase I made was Brownie...oh, and Dorothea can reject any statements in her will I’ve made, but I feel she will agree.”

“You left Jonathan and I the farm?”

Zelda made a hum of confirmation. “I tried to keep our assets split as evenly as possible between you, Andrew, and James, but Jonathan has expressed the most interest in the farm.”

Her nephew made a sound of agreement and went over to Dorothea’s side table and grabbed one of her quills and ink pots, dipping the quill into the pot before handing it to Zelda using his finger to point the line where she was to sign. 

The old woman signed the paper shakily, but successfully, and Matthew signed the line marked witness before blowing on the ink to dry it, so he could fold the papers, putting them in his pocket. 

Zelda smiled gently and squeezed his hand, “I didn’t want Dorothea to have to think about such things on her own…”

He gently squeezed her hand back, allowing her one last puff on her cigarette before stomping it out, able to hear Dorothea and Sara coming back up the porch steps. “So, you did.”

His Aunt softly pressed her lips together and didn’t comment as Lucy barreled through the door, saving her, holding up a massive frog. “A FROG!”

Zelda chuckled and took the frog from the little girl’s hands, getting a wicked grin, “We can make frog soup!”

“NO!” Lucy cried trying to grab the frog back as Zelda laughed until it dissolved into coughing. 

***

Dorothea had done her best to keep Zelda on bedrest in order to selfishly prolong the life she had left, but her best efforts were thwarted by the witch’s desire to participate in nature.

“I’m not spending the rest of my waking moments chained to that bed,” the witch had protested while using the side table to pull herself out from the sheets. 

“That’s not what you said 20 years ago,” Dorothea replied coyly.

They had compromised with the porch. 

Now, Zelda held their copy of “The Pilgrim’s Progress” in her lap as Dorothea made her way up the porch steps after checking up on the new baby goat. 

“How is he doing?” Zelda asked, sipping at the tea Dorothea had made.

“His appetite is growing by the hour!” Dorothea exclaimed with a smile before walking over to sit beside the witch, holding her cane in front of her. “I thought you said that book was “a dismal allegory-”

“Of the false god and his lies? Yes. And I stand by it……..but it has its merits.”

Dorothea smiled and rolled her eyes. It was her favorite, but she hadn’t expected Zelda to ever pick it up for a second time. “Well...don’t let me interrupt you,” she implored, gesturing to Zelda to continue. 

Her witch simply smiled and looked down at the book and its pages before handing the copy to Dorothea, “....Why don’t you read it to me?”

Dorothea took the novel, surprised, itching to tease her wife for getting sentimental in her old age, but bit her tongue instead seeing the exhaustion that loomed behind Zelda’s eyes. “If you wish. Is there a place you would like me to begin?”

Zelda shook her head, shutting her eyes as she rested her head against the back of the rocking chair, “...wherever you would like…”

Dorothea frowned, gently taking Zelda’s hand, rubbing her thumb over the witch’s knuckles as she searched for a place to begin.

She found one of her favorite passages and chose to begin her reading from there;

“In this land also the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom was renewed; yea here, ‘As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them.’ Here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage….” 

***

That night, Zelda shot up in their bed with a surprising force, causing Dorothea to wake.

“Zelda?! Are you alright?!” Dorothea asked anxiously, immediately sitting up, resting a hand on the woman’s shaking back.

The wail. 

It had finally come for her.

It rang through the small cabin with the chilling force of centuries of calling, rattling the witch’s mind with fear as she looked to Dorothea.

“A banshee…..can you not hear her scream?”

The mortal listened intently as she watched the fear in her wife’s eyes. She had heard of banshees when she lived in England. They signaled the death of a member of an Irish family and Zelda’s previously red hair certainly pointed to possible Irish descent, but she couldn’t hear the scream Zelda spoke of. All she could hear was the flapping of wings. She looked to the window and saw a crow. 

“Stay here…”

“Dora -”

“Stay,” the older woman insisted as she eased out of the bed, grabbing her cane to walk over to the window where the crow sat, cocking its head to the side before letting out a large caw. Dorothea looked back to Zelda, who’s hands quickly covered her ears. That was the thing she’d discovered about magic in living so long with her witch. Just because she - a born mortal - couldn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. 

She turned back to the crow, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t have spells or charms to keep the devil and his demons at bay, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. Dorothea squared her feet and clutched her cane, bringing the end to the edge of the window before opening it only slightly so only the tip of the cane could fit through - punting the crow off of the window sill and into the darkness as quickly and forcefully as she could before slamming the window shut. 

She listened ferociously for the crow, waiting to hear the tell tale flapping wings, but the sound had ceased. Dorothea turned to Zelda whose hands were slowly leaving her ears, watching Dorothea with an awe that brought more pride to Dorothea than even praise from God himself could give her. 

The mortal eased back into the bed and stroked Zelda’s cheek, staying upright. “Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

Zelda frowned deeply as she settled back into the pillows, “......She’ll come back...She’ll find a way inside, Dora….She may not come in tonight. You need to rest...”

The old woman shook her head. “I’m wide awake, dear, and leave it to me. I have many more tricks up my sleeve. You won’t be leaving me tonight even if that was the banshee’s plan.”

Zelda watched her wife, worried, but was too tired to refute her. 

Dorothea leaned down carefully and pecked her lips, “Go to sleep.” 

The witch frowned and took Dorothea’s hand, holding it to her abdomen as she shut her eyes once again.

Dorothea waited, gently rubbing the witch’s thumb with her’s until the witch’s breathing grew into it’s soft labored way, signaling to the woman that Zelda was asleep. 

Carefully, the woman slipped her hand out of Zelda’s and pressed her feet back to the cool wooden floor, looking around the cabin for any possible entrances the crow could use. She noted them; the door, five windows, the fireplace. 

She lit a candle and walked over to their bookcase. The amount of books pertaining to witchcraft Zelda had seen fit to bring back with her when she had been excommunicated had caused an eye roll from Dorothea at the time, but she’d been proven wrong. Who knew they would come in handy one day. Dorothea’s eyes flitted over the titles before selecting one that seemed to specialize in spirits and demons. 

As she set the book on the table and began to flip through it, she paused. The mortal could feel a looming presence breathing behind her. She turned, but no one was there. Only the growing, flickering shadow of the cross statue she kept on top self. She frowned deeply before turning back to the book, flipping to the section on “Irish Spirits,” the cross crashing to the ground as she hit the page on banshees, causing her to jump. She looked back to the cross on the floor, and then to Zelda, hoping it hadn’t woken her. It hadn’t. 

Dorothea looked back down at the cross and a verse crossed her mind -  _ For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft _ .

Her frown set deeply in her face as she looked down at the cross.

Surely, this was just her imagination playing tricks on her and not her God telling her not to aid her wife. 

She turned back to the book and ran her finger along the pages of text that stated that there were no discovered ways to prevent banshees, but that it was possible banshees were a derivative of the fae folk. Dorothea took another book off the shelf, causing her Bible to fly out and hit the table. She ignored it and set the Book of the Fae down, flipping through the pages until she found her answer. Iron. 

Dorothea quickly grabbed some onions from the bowl on the counter, setting them around Zelda in their bed and took their small jar of salt, making a salt circle around the sleeping witch that she hoped would protect her until she could return from the barn. She quickly put the salt away and glanced back at the cross and Bible before crossing the cabin’s cold wooden floor, picking up the artifacts and throwing them into the fireplace, before carefully lighting a match and opening the Bible...only to set the match between it’s pages. 

If she had to choose between her God and Zelda, her decision was simple. 

He had left no room for her heart in his kingdom.

She would leave no room for his text in her hearth.

She opened the door and stepped out into the darkness with only a candle and her cane to keep any horrors at bay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this is going to be three parts. I seem to have a habit of assuming stories will be shorter than I anticipated! 
> 
> I don't own the passage that Dorothea reads in "The Pilgrims Progress" by John Bunyan  
> and the verse she remembers is the opening line of 1 Samuel 15:23
> 
> I finished and edited this quite late at night so if there are any discrepancies Yikes!


End file.
